“There’s no way I can eat all of this. Is this the whole box?”
“Nah, just half.” Gavin sits across from me with his own plate, dousing it in hot sauce before he digs in.
For a moment, all I do is watch him, sipping my tea and appreciating that he’s here with me.
“Shit. My bad. We’re at your grandparents’ house. Did you want to say a blessing?”
I can’t help it. I start laughing. Gavin looks seriously concerned as he swallows a mouthful of pasta.
“I think we’ll be okay. God knows I’m a little distracted.”
Gavin grins back and points his fork at me. “Okay, then. Eat.”
I do as I’m told, and we laugh about Nana and how mad she’d get if one of us snuck a bite before the blessing.
“Swear I thought that woman had a direct line to the Lord. I told her once that God had no use for me and I was damned anyway since my parents weren’t married when I was born and my mom didn’t even know who my father was.”
I stab another forkful of cheesy noodles. “Oh yeah? What’d she say to that?”
Gavin swallows and wipes his mouth with a paper towel before answering. “She said, ‘Noah was a drunk, Jacob was a liar, Moses had a stutter, and Lazarus was dead. God can use whoever he wants to use—bastards and all.’”
I stifle a burst of shocked laughter by covering my mouth, because that was such a Nana thing to say. “She had an answer for everything.”
“Reminds me of someone else I know.”
I drop my fork on my plate and point to myself. “Me?”
Gavin arches his eyebrows and cocks his head to the side. “Yeah, you.”
“I wish,” I mutter under my breath before returning my attention to my food. I don’t have an answer for anything. I don’t have an answer for how to make Papa better, or what to do about the band while we’re dealing with this, or even how to tell my brother that I am deeply in love with his best friend and I always have been.
“Tired?” Gavin asks when I stand to rinse my plate and yawn.
“A little. Think I’ll turn in early so that we can get back to the hospital first thing in the morning. Thanks for dinner.”
“Good night, Bluebird,” Gavin says softly, taking my plate from my hands and lowering it into the sink.
There’s a flash of something, a heated flare that flickers between us only for a moment. But then he turns back to the sink and I go to bed alone.
The last thing I remember is staring at dancing shadows on the ceiling made by wind-rustled leaves moving behind my half-open blinds. I must’ve fallen asleep, though because the next thing I know, I’m awake in my bed and it’s still dark outside. I stumble to the bathroom in a stupor and reality doesn’t seep through until after I’ve washed my hands. Why I’m home, why I’m here in this house. Once I get back into my room, I text Dallas for an update on Papa but figure he’s asleep when I don’t get a response in several minutes.
Restless and unable to fall back asleep, I make my way to the living room in hopes of playing Nana’s old Wurlitzer for comfort. I’d thought Gavin might sleep in Dallas’s room but nope, he’s right there on the couch. His bare chest rises and falls with steady breaths and I watch him in his peaceful state for a few precious moments before taking several steps backward into the hall.
My room feels suffocating so I don’t shut the door all the way. It’s warm since the house only has window unit air conditioners in the kitchen and in Papa’s room. After kicking off my pajama pants, I curl onto my side, hugging my pillow to my chest and trying not to think about how many times Papa tucked me in, how, at some point, I outgrew that bedtime tradition and he stopped.
My pillow is damp and I’m lying there wondering if I was crying or drooling or both in my sleep when my bedroom door opens the rest of the way, letting in a thick slice of light from the hallway. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask if I’m okay or if I need anything; he just walks over to my bed and slides in beside me.